


The One Where Stan Lives

by StableyUris



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Resurrection, Stan has a service dog named Georgie, Stanley Uris Lives, Stanley Uris-centric, he's good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StableyUris/pseuds/StableyUris
Summary: The first thing Stan realised when he woke was that he was very cold, and very naked.Or,Stanley Uris wakes up in a morgue.





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Stan realised when he woke was that he was very cold, and very naked, both being very odd all things considering. He felt chilled to the bone in a way he had never felt before, and well, he was naked. 

He groaned, blinking his eyes blearily as he tried to look around him, before realizing that it was rather futile as wherever he was, it was pitch black. He winced, suddenly becoming aware of the pounding headache he currently had, wondering idly if he had been drugged as he tried to puzzle through the odd flashes of memories he was getting of space and… a turtle. He let out another groan, and quickly moved to bring his hand to rub at his temple, when it connected very suddenly with the ceiling above him… the very close ceiling. 

Panic settled quickly in his gut, and his hands shot to the sides, hitting the walls - which were just as uncomfortably close as the ceiling was, with a loud metallic thunk. 

He heard a vaguely muffled shout coming from somewhere outside his small metal box, and the thought of drugging came back, had he been kidnapped? The panic in his gut increased tenfold, and he hit at the walls a few more times, not particularly caring that it wouldn't really do much to them. 

The sound of scraping followed by what sounded like a lock clicking (oh my god had he been locked in?) echoed around the small space, and suddenly he was moving, fluorescent lights flooding his vision. He blinked against the lights, trying to focus on the figure who was now standing above him. He cleared his throat to speak, voice shaking slightly. "Hi, uh… I-" But he was unable to finish his thought, as the person suddenly fell backwards, seemingly fainting dead. 

Stan let out a surprised noise, shooting up into a sitting position, trying his best to ignore the dizziness and nausea that came with it, and peered over the edge of the tray (wait, tray?) he was sitting on, and found that the man had indeed fainted. 

He slowly slid his feet off the edge of the tray, standing shakily, and glancing around nervously. He eyed the wall of doors in front of him, the tray he had just come from among them, before inspecting the rest of the room. A few cluttered tables and empty gurneys sat in the middle of the room. Wait… Was he- his thought was cut off as he winced, glancing down at his arms, which he only now realised were bleeding slightly, half healed wounds sliced cleanly across both. 

His confusion only lasted a few moments, before his memories from the past few days (weeks?) slammed into his mind, his vision blurring as he found himself breathing hard in panic, falling backwards against the wall. 

_ "You can go back." _

He let out a large exhale, trying desperately to calm his breathing, but found he was only able to calm his panicked breaths somewhat, though it was enough that he no longer felt himself in danger of passing out. 

He blearily pushed off the wall, stumbling towards a chair that was pushed under one of the tables, and pulling the lab coat that was hung on it off. He pulled it on and shakily did the buttons as he glanced around, spotting what looked to be a small roll of gauze off to the side on the table. He snatched it up after he had finished with the buttons, and began sloppily wrapping the wounds on his wrists. 

Wincing slightly as he tied the gauze off, he did one more once over of the room, spotting a door labelled exit with a little "No smoking immediately outside the door" sign on it, and let out a breath. He really had not wanted to walk through the rest of the building to get out, knowing that he had previously been- well he was sure him walking out of a morgue that he had previously been a resident of would cause a little bit of shock. 

He pushed off of the table he had been leaning against, causing it to scrape along the ground, and stumbled his way to the door, pushing it open hastily and all but running outside. 

He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Lucky for him he had come out right on the corner of an intersection, and even luckier he was not very far from home, which was definitely a good thing as he was already getting some weird looks from pedestrians strolling past. He was sure he looked rather crazy, dressed only in a lab coat with bandages wrapped up his arms. He did his best to ignore the anxiety creeping up caused by the looks, and started off jogging down the street, wincing slightly at the rocks that dug into his feet, but never slowing. 

He reached his house quickly, sighing in relief at the absence of the car in the driveway. He had no way of knowing exactly what time it was, but he really hoped Patty was at work. He took the steps up the porch two at a time, and hastily pushed a potted plant over, grabbing the spare key and spinning quickly towards the door, glad now that his nausea was dissipating. 

It took him a few tries, but eventually he got the key in the lock, and he was swinging the door open. He was immediately greeted by a wet nose against his leg, and he laughed lightly, patting the overly ecstatic dog on the head. 

"Hi Georgie." He mumbled fondly as he pushed his way inside, the door clicking shut behind him. He smiled down at the dog, as he thought back, his insistence on naming him Georgie suddenly making sense in his mind. Bill would be- and suddenly the anxiety returned, his breathing upping in pace once more. 

Georgie whined up at him, pawing at his leg, and Stan tried to let his breathing slow. "I know, I know… I need to relax. I'm sure they're all fine I-" He let out a large, calming exhale. "I'll pack, and we'll leave. I just need to calm down." He mumbled to himself. 

He moved quickly to his and Patty's room, Georgie following obediently behind him as he went. 

He spent around 20 minutes turning the house practically upside down trying to find his phone, desperate to get Mike's number off of it, to call hear they were all alright, all alive and well. But try as he might, he could not find it, and eventually he had to give up, and moved on to hastily packing his things. At some point he had taken the time to actually dress himself, although rather sloppily, his wallet and keys pocketed- at least he had been able to find those. 

His heart was still pounding a half hour after he arrived home, as he zipped his suitcase up and pulled it off the bed. Unfortunately it seemed he had been too caught up in his packing and panicking to hear the door open, and suddenly there was a crash in the doorway behind him. 

He spun quickly, nearly falling backwards onto the bed as he did so, eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. 

A spilt coffee lay on the floor, and Patty stood there, looking as shocked, if not more than himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

Stan stared at the shocked Patty for a few moments, before speaking. "Patty I-" Unfortunately he was immediately cut off. 

"No, he's dead! He-he told me about you! In his letter. You're not him." She snapped at him, backing up a few feet. 

Stan let out a breath, he had forgotten about the letters, forgotten he had explained- however lightly- to Patty exactly what IT was. He gripped his suitcase tight, taking a few steps towards Patty, who just retreated further backwards as he did. "Patty, listen, I know this seems bad, especially after what I told you, but if you just-" 

"No! I'm not going to hear any of it, you're lying!" She replied firmly, hands sliding along the wall beside her as she continued backing up. 

"Please, I just need you to listen to me!" He pleaded, though he really had no idea what he could possibly say to her to amend the situation. 

It seemed the situation would not be getting amended by any means though, as Patty's hand bumped against a broom which had been leaning on the wall, and suddenly it was being swung, smashing against the front of Stan's face. 

Stan made an alarmed noise, recoiling and bringing his free hand up to clutch at his nose, which was now bleeding. 

"Get out of my house, you monster!" Patty exclaimed, broom handle held above her defensively. 

Stan eyed her for a few moments, wracking his brain for any sort of way to deflate this situation, but he came up short. He let out large breath, he would leave, he could come back later to explain everything to her when he had more time, but right now he had to go. "Alright, alright. I'll leave." He mumbled, edging sideways towards the door, watching her carefully. It was just a stick, but he really had no desire to be whacked with a broom again. 

He blindly reached for the door handle, opening it with a click, as he stepped out backwards onto the porch. He opened his mouth to say goodbye, but Patty advanced quickly, and the door was very suddenly being slammed and locked. 

Stan sighed, running a hand through his hair, cringing lightly at how gross it felt. He shook his head, pushing the worry away, there was no time for things like that. He would go to a library, book a flight, come back later in the night to get Georgie, and then he would be gone. 

Taking one last sad glance at the locked door, he set off down the stairs, suitcase still clutched tightly in his hand and with a gameplan in mind. 

* * *

It was very late when Stan returned to his house, late enough that Patty should have been asleep for a few hours. He had a flight booked leaving soon and he just needed his dog. 

Making his way up the porch steps as quietly as he could, he gently set his suitcase down, fishing his keys from his pocket. As he slipped the key gingerly into the lock, he thought, not for the first time, how glad he was that his dog did not bark at the door. 

The door clicked open quietly and he stepped inside, immediately being greeted by a happy Georgie. 

Stan smiled, quickly snagging Georgie's vest and leash from the side table next to the door. "Let's get you ready to go, hey?" He whispered to the wagging dog. 

A few seconds later Georgie was ready to go, and Stan slipped back outside with him, letting out a sigh as he gently shut and locked the door. He really wished he didn't have to leave Patty after all of that, but he had to. He once again mentally affirmed to himself that he would come back to fix everything. 

He grabbed his suitcase and headed quickly down the stairs and towards a main street to hail a cab, feeling much less anxious then he had a few hours ago. 

* * *

The airport was oddly quiet, only a few people lingered in seats, which was fine by him, crowded airports were definitely high on his list of situations he didn't want to be in, especially right now. 

Despite the lack of crowds, the lineup for security was substantial, and he found himself shifting back and forth uncomfortably under the stares of those around him. He had completely forgotten to change his shirt after his bloody nose, that coupled with the fact that the buttons were askew, and the bandages wrapped up his arms, he was sure he was quite an odd sight. 

Eventually he made his way to the front of the line, passing through the metal detector with no issues, calling Georgie through after him. He went to take his bag and leave, but was suddenly stopped by a frowning security officer, jumping slightly as the hand landed on his shoulder. 

"Are you alright there? Do you need the police called for anything or…" She spoke gently, glancing down at his bloodied shirt. 

Stan glanced down as well, before looking back up at her, smiling shakily. "Oh, no no, I'm alright. Just a nosebleed you know?" He said with an awkward laugh. 

The officer was still frowning, but nodded, releasing her shoulder and returning to her job. 

Stan sighed as he walked quickly away. "I must really look like a mess, huh?" He mumbled down to Georgie, who stared back up at him soulfully. 

He ended up waiting another two hours before eventually boarding his flight, getting even more odd looks from the flight attendant and passengers. Luckily for him (and Georgie, who was sprawled out very comfortably on the floor), there was no one seated beside him, which meant he didn't have to worry about getting the concerned looks for five hours straight. 

Sighing, he settled back into the seat, tuning out the attendant who was now running through the safety regulations, which normally he would never had done, but in his defence it had been a very… odd and tiring day. 

Only a few minutes after taking off, he found himself drifting off into a very much needed sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was a little over five hours later when Stan was jolted awake by a sudden pressure on his shoulder. His head shot up, eyes quickly connecting with the flight attendant's above him, before glancing to the side uncomfortably. 

"Sorry sir, but we've landed." She spoke gently, frowning down at him. Evidently she was still concerned about the blood and anxiety, he supposed he would be as well if their situations were reversed. 

"Yes… Yes, thank you." He mumbled, pointedly retaining zero eye contact. 

The flight attendant sighed softly (or was that just him?) and walked away, likely to wake more sleeping passengers. 

Stan rubbed blearily at his eyes, before looking down with a soft smile to Georgie, who was still sprawled at his feet, looking up at him happily. 

Standing, Stan grabbed his single bag (he had only had one, right?), and gestured to Georgie, who quickly stood beside him, and the two made their way down the aisle and off the plane. 

Unfortunately this airport seemed to be quite a lot busier, and Stan made his way through the crowd on edge the entire time, head hunched forwards. He blearily thought that perhaps he should have changed his shirt on the plane before falling asleep, but there was no point in trying to do that right now, belining for the exit was definitely preferable to waiting in line for however long for a bathroom stall. 

After being stopped by three separate security guards, one whom didn't even stop him because of his blood, but to ask him for Georgie's "registration papers" (did they even train employees here anymore? He struggled through that encounter, completely unprepared to deal with it), he finally made it out. 

After another excruciating half hour wait outside for a taxi, he was finally on his way to the Derry Townhouse, a place he only vaguely remembered. 

The taxi driver eyeballed him through the rear view mirror silently the entire ten minute drive, which had Stan somehow even more on edge than before. Perhaps it was the enclosed and personal space which made it worse than the airport, or perhaps it was just the nerves of his impending arrival fueling it. Either way, his brow now had a thin sheen of sweat, and his leg bounced quickly in response. 

The ride was only ten minutes, but to Stan it felt like another hour had passed by the time they finally pulled to the side in front of the townhouse. He found himself glancing back and forth between it and the debit machine as he entered his pin to pay the driver. 

Card declined… Well that wasn't a good sign was it. 

He sighed, pulling out the cash in his wallet, fortunately just enough to pay the driver, who looked rather unamused to be kept waiting. He mumbled a quick thanks to the man as he popped the door open, and stepped out, Georgie hopping out quickly after him. 

As soon as he shut the cab door behind him, it was speeding off. He rolled his eyes in response to this, and glanced down at his now useless credit card, sighing. He really hoped someone was still here, otherwise he'd be rather screwed. He shook his head quickly, clearing the anxious thoughts from his head (did they even really want him here?) and pocketed the card, slowly heading up the stairs. 

For some reason, he found himself raising a hand to knock, before realising that was a rather odd thing to do considering this wasn't someone's house. He lowered his hand to the knob, and twisted, pushing the door open slowly. 

He stepped inside slowly, looking around tentatively. There were obvious signs of life…yet no one could be seen or heard. A shirt tossed over a chair, half empty glasses sat on the bar, and… Oh God was that blood? He pulled Georgie back quickly from where he was sniffing in confusion at the small pool of blood on the floor, making a small gagging noise. They were gone and there was blood, oh God they were probably-

"Uh hey there bud, you alright?" A concerned voice said from behind him, causing him to whip around suddenly, eyes wide as he took in the man, tall and attractive...and oddly familiar. 

"Y-Yea...just the blood, I'm not so good around blood." Stan mumbled in response, clutching his arm awkwardly. 

The man smiled kindly at him. "Sorry about that… My friend ah… he slipped and cut himself, I'm sure it'll be cleaned up soon. 

Stan tentatively smiled back, rubbing at his arm slightly. "Oh, well I hope your friend is alright… You wouldn't happen to know an-" He was cut off by a sudden yelling coming from outside the open front door. 

"Ben? You inside already?" A feminine voice called. 

Wait.. Ben? His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but was once again cut off, this time the source of the voice inside, directly behind… Ben.

"Ben you…" The ginger, who he could only assume was Beverly, froze once her eyes settled on him, and she grabbed at Ben's arm, yanking him back suddenly. "You can't be here, oh god… No we killed it, how…" She spoke frantically, still trying to drag Ben backwards, but he did not budge, glancing between the two in evident alarm in confusion. 

"Bev, Bev wait I know this looks bad but-" Stan started, once again being cut off, frustration growing. 

"Don't you dare use his face like this you-" She was crying now, tears of pain and frustration. 

"Bev, hey, what's up I need you to explain." Ben spoke gently, as he took her shoulders, glancing briefly back at Stan. 

"T-that's Stan, but…" She spoke, tripping over her words slightly. 

"Listen to me!" Stan spoke suddenly, loud and desperate, refusing to let this situation escalate as it had done with Patty. "It was.. The turtle, you know what I'm talking about right Bev? You of all people would know." He pleaded with her, Georgie whining and pawing at his leg as his anxiety peaked. 

"The turtle…" She mumbled, nudging Ben gently to the side to look Stan over fully, eyes settling on Georgie. "Who is that?" She mumbled suspiciously, taking a few steps forward, Ben following closely behind her, also evidently cautious of the situation now. 

"He's ah… My service dog.. His name is Georgie." He said gently, a soft smile on his face. 

Bev was directly in front of him now, looking him over. "IT would never include a detail like that…" She mumbled, seemingly to herself. 

Something seemed to shift then, and suddenly he was being tightly embraced, and Bev was crying into his shoulder. He looked down at her awkwardly for a few moments, before they were both quickly also embraced by Ben.

Stan felt his resolve crack, and he was melting into the hug, tears soon also falling from him as he buried his face in Ben's chest. 


	4. Chapter 4

It had definitely been at least ten minutes by the time the small group separated, eyes wet but with smiles on their faces.

Bev still held Stan's shoulders in her hands, keeping him at arms length. "You have some explaining to do." She said, though her tone was soft, not stern as one using that phrase normally would be.

Stan laughed lightly, still smiling down at her. "I'm not entirely sure if I know what happened, but I'll do my best."

Bev nodded, pulling Stan gently to the couch on the other side of the lounge area.

A few seconds later found Stan sandwiched closely in between Ben and Bev, the former having slung an arm around his shoulders. Now, generally Stan was the opposite of a touchy feely person, though here in this situation, between two of his best friends (could he really still call them that after what he had done?), he found himself not caring about the contact at all.

"So, ah, what do you two know about ...the turtle?" Stan started, methodically stroking Georgie, who was lying across his feet in front of him.

Ben frowned. "Well, to be honest with you I really have no idea what you're both talking about with that. Is this a uh, metaphor or like a real turtle?" He asked sheepishly.

Bev made an amused sound. "Well, we think it's a real turtle, at the very least that's what all of us have seen. Bill and Richie have seen it before as well, if Mike or Eddie have seen it then they haven't told me about it." 

Ben nodded. "Is it something we need to worry about?"

Stan shook his head. "No, I mean I don't think so. It seemed nice." He said with a shrug. "When I ...died, I woke up in ...nothing. I really don't know how to describe it...it was really just nothing." He tried to explain, brow furrowed in thought. "But then- there was something. Quite the opposite of nothing, it was as if everything was in front of me at once…" He broke off with a sigh. "I'm sorry this probably all sounds like gibberish." He mumbled.

Bev shook her head with a smile. "It's fine you're doing great, I doubt anyone would really be able to describe something like this properly." She responded, Ben nodding in agreement with her. 

Stan smiled back at her, before continuing. "It spoke to me then, it's voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere but also nowhere… It...thanked me for what I had done, and we just sort of...talked for a while, honestly it felt like weeks but, I think it's only been a day or so." He said, Bev nodding an affirmative. It had only been two days since he had passed. 

"Well, after talking for a while about nothing in particular really, you would think that a turtle god would have some wise things to say but really it just rambled on about how…adorable I was for a while." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

Bev laughed at this. "The turtle called you adorable? Well it isn't wrong." She said with another laugh, her and Ben both grinning at him. 

Stan sighed. "Yes yes, it's hilarious. Anyways, after talking for a while he eventually just told me that I could go back, I don't really remember exactly what happened after that… The next thing that I do remember is waking up in a morgue." He said with a furrowed brow, staring off distantly as he tried, and failed, to recount the missing part of his memory.

"Wait, you woke up… In a morgue? Like a proper morgue?" Ben asked incredulously. 

Stan nodded. "Yep, refrigerated box and all. Pretty sure I scared the shit out of the person working, he passed out."

Ben barked out a laugh. "Yea no wonder! That poor guy probably thinks the zombie apocalypse has started!" He said, laughing earnestly. 

Stan grinned. "I think Patty may think the same. Oh, shoot." He said with a wince. "Can I borrow one of your phones? I should really call her, we didn't exactly part on great terms after I showed back up." He explained with a nervous laugh. 

Bev nodded, quickly pulling out her phone and handing it to him

Stan took it with a nodded thanks, dialing Patty's number quickly, not bothering to move from his spot on the couch. The phone rung once, before letting out a loud beep, an automated voice coming through the speaker.

"The number you are trying to reach is not assigned, please check the number, and dial again."

Stan pulled the phone away from his ear, frowning down at it. He glanced over the number, anxiousness settling in his stomach as he realised it was in fact, the correct number. 

Bev frowned, placing a hand over his, gently taking the phone with the other. "Hey, don't worry about it, I'm sure it's nothing. We'll try getting ahold of her later, okay?" 

Stan didn't reply for a few moments. "I'm not sure…she wants me to. She kicked me out, cancelled my bank cards…and now this." He mumbled numbly. 

Ben and Bev shared a brief look of sadness, before focusing back on their friend, Bev's arm joining Ben's around his shoulders. 

"Hey, hey... it's okay. We'll figure it okay. Don't stress about it right now, we're here for you, alright?" Bev tried to comfort him once more, rubbing gently at his shoulder. 

This time Stan glanced up, a small smile on his face, focusing on the grounding effect of both of them pressed up against him. "Alright." He said quietly. 

They sat on the couch without speaking for a while, Stan basking in the (nearly) silent companionship. Ben was leaning heavily against him, head resting atop of his, possibly asleep, while Bev was humming something quietly, reading through something on her phone. 

After a while, Stan glanced towards the front door of the townhouse, suddenly anxious once more. "Everyone else is…alright…?" He spoke quietly, afraid of the answer. 

Bev looked up at him, while Ben did not move, affirming the fact that he had fallen asleep. "Well…" She started with a sigh. "They're at the hospital, Eddie he- well they're not sure if he's going to-" She began explaining gently, but was cut off as the front door suddenly slammed open, the act also jolting Ben awake. 

"Richie p-please! Freaking o-out is not going t-t-to make this any better!" A voice (the stutter making it obvious it was Bill), pleaded, as Richie stomped up to the bar, grabbing one of the half empty glasses that had been left sitting there. 

"Bill I'm really going to need to to leave me the fuck alone right now." He ground out, tipping the glass back and drinking it all in one gulp as he turned, leaning back against the bar, eyes finally settling on the group on the couch, a brow raising. "What, you two celebrating already? Hired an escort?" He spoke, what normally would have been a light hearted joke from him, was snapped out accusingly. 

Stan flushed, and glanced away, tucking his arms around him self consciously. 

Bev was less than amused. "_Richie._" She hissed out. "First of all, the fact that you think we came back here just to have sex is incredibly insulting." She spoke, voice stern. "Second of all, no we did not _hire an escort._ This is… well…" She glanced towards Stan, who met her eyes and nodded slightly. "This is Stan."

Silence suddenly blanketed the room, before it was broken by an odd broken sound gasp, as Bill brought a hand up to his mouth muffle himself. 

"What…" Richie said dumbly, placing his empty glass back on the bar. 

Stan slowly stood, dislodging himself from Bev and Ben, as well as Georgie from his feet. The dog looked up at him, but remained where he was. "I was...brought back…" He mumbled, slowly making his way to the dumb struck Richie. "The turtle, I'm not sure why but…" He shrugged lightly, stopping in front of Richie, he held out one of his bandaged arms as if it was some sort of proof. 

Richie stared at his arm for a moment, before his face suddenly contorted, and he snapped forwards, punching Stan square in the face. 

Stan stumbled backwards, clutching at his nose as it started bleeding for the second time in less than twenty four hours, looking at Richie in shock as the pain set in. 

"What so you just… Decide to off yourself and get to come back but Eddie-" Richie’s yelling was cut off as he in turn, was punched in the face, Bill standing in front of him fuming. 

"W-What the fuck R-Richie?" Bill snapped as Richie glared darkly at Stan from across the room. 

Ben came up behind Stan and braced him, gently moving his hand away from his nose, replacing it with a towel. Stan mumbled a broken thank you, clutching the towel against his face. 

Bev had moved up behind Bill, and dragged him back away from Richie before anymore punches could be thrown. "Bill." She said quietly, though there was clearly anger in her voice. "Take Stan up to your room, alright? Me and Ben will deal with Richie."

Bill glanced between her, Stan and Richie once, before nodding, moving back away from Richie and towards Stan. His eyes lingered over Stan for a moment, before he gingerly accepted his weight from Ben, beginning to escort him up the stairs. 

Stan glanced back at the room, suddenly remembering Georgie. He patted his thigh, letting out a dull "Heel." Georgie perked, and soon was pressed up against Stan's leg as they slowly made their way up the stairs.

As soon as they were safely in Bill's room, with the door shut, Stan slumped away from Bill, teeth gritted as he did his best not to cry. He sighed bitterly as he tossed the bloody towel the side, his nose finally having stopped leaking. 

Stan glanced up at Bill, who was staring at him, brow furrowed in some sort of emotion. Mistaking this for distaste, Stan swallowed, and began to speak. "Bill… I'm-" He was unable to finish the sentence though, as he found himself suddenly held tightly against Bill.

"D-Don't you dare apologize." Bill said, before letting out a sob, burying his face in Stan's shoulder. 

Stan let his emotions get the better of him, and for the second time today, he found himself sobbing into a hug. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie is doing his best


	5. Chapter 5

At some point, Stan found himself on the townhouse bed, with Bill wrapped around him, a hand carding gently through his hair while they both silently cried onto one another. It felt safe, it felt like home. 

They laid like this for what to Stan, felt like hours, before Bill eventually spoke. "W-Why did you do it?" Bill asked in a cracked voice, Stan having already gave a brief explanation of the events leading to him arriving here. 

Stan tensed slightly, clenching Bill's shirt in a fist. "I-" He tried to speak, but shuddered as the memories that always sat at the back of his mind forced their way to the front.

_ "It's all your fault Stanny." _

Bill frowned, pulling his head back from Stan's shoulder to look at him. "H-Hey, I'm s-sorry… You don't have to t-talk about it." He said quietly.

Stan sighed, shaking his head lightly. "No… I want to, I want you to understand, it's just… difficult." He mumbled. 

Bill smiled gently at him, rubbing a soothing hand along his shoulders. "Don't push yourself… J-Just say what you're comfortable w-with." 

Stan smiled slightly at him in response, before beginning. "Well… I suppose it started with the dreams…"

* * *

For as long as Stan could remember, he had never had a good night's sleep. No matter what he did or tried, he'd always wake up with a thin sheen of sweat in a panic. It had made College a nightmare, one that he had barely gotten through. Eventually he saw a doctor, who prescribed him with medication for anxiety, and some to help him sleep. 

It didn't help. 

No matter what combination of medications he took while staring at himself tiredly in the mirror before bed, the dreams- and therefore the anxiety- persisted. 

The dreams always started the same, the beginning also being the only part of the dream that didn't slip just out of reach of his mind when he awoke. 

He was walking, alone, in a dark, dank tunnel. His breaths coming out in gasps as he spun round a few times, flashlight seemingly doing nothing to light the tunnel in front of him. 

Voices seemed to whisper around him as he hurried desperately through the tunnel, calling his name amongst other unhearable things. Eventually he reached a dead end, breathing hitching as he nearly slammed into the wall in his haste.

_ "I'm right behind you Stannnnyyy…." _

He froze up, body tensing and harsh breathing halting as the whispers around him cut off, the only sound being the light tapping of whatever was clearly only feet behind him. 

He slowly turned, letting out a whimper as he backed himself against the wall, taking in the sight of the twisted lady lumbering towards him. 

Now it was not the twisted lady exclusively that graced him with its presence in these dreams, sometimes it was his parents (more often his father), sometimes a teacher, sometimes just an abstract fear animated, it seemed to differ dream by dream based on what he had done that day. 

_ "Where are your friends Stannnleeyyy, do they know you're gone? Would they ever notice if you were gone?" _It says with a laugh. 

It would always taunt Stan with things like this, though it never gave him a chance to reply, as it would then shoot forwards with its mouth wide and gaping, and the world would go dark. 

That was where Stan's usual memory of the dreams would end, but not the dreams themselves. 

He'd find himself, eyes clenched shut against a bizarre bright light, beating on the chest of his attacker above him, as it held him down, razor sharp teeth piercing the skin all over his face and- _ oh God it hurt. _

Eventually he relented, and his eyes slipped open, his desperate attempts to escape ceasing suddenly, and the scene shifted drastically. 

-

He found himself standing hand in hand in a circle of seven, the same eerie light he had seen in the creature's mouth now emanating from above him. He did not look up at the lights, but from side to side, taking in the faces of people that until a few seconds ago he had not remembered, but how could he have forgotten them? 

Eddie met his eyes in a panic right before Mike was screaming to shut their eyes, and he shut them, the last image in his mind being Eddie's panicked expression.

He shook like a leaf, Eddie's hand clenched in one hand, and Mike's in the other, as everyone began chanting. He couldn't force the words from his mouth, nothing but a sob would come out. 

"Stan you have to say it!" Eddie yelled at him over the strange booming that filled the cavern, seemingly originating from the lights. "You have to-" and then Eddie's hand was wrenched from his, and his eyes snapped open. 

Eddie was gone, having been tossed clean across the cavern, his body now lying still against the cave wall. 

Someone was screaming, Stan blearily realised as he quickly stumbled out of the center of the room, away from IT as it laughed it's echoing laugh. 

_ "Wuh-oh Bevvy! Looks like you slipped, you should really watch your step! Too bad!" _

The screaming was suddenly silenced. 

-

When IT was finally gone, dead and buried beneath the rubble, it was only him, Mike and Richie who had made their way out, now collapsed on the pavement of the road, a terrible silence blanketing them as they watched the house descend until there was true silence. 

"You did this…" Mike mumbled eventually. "You.. You weren't saying the chant you-" He cut himself off with a sob, burying his head into his hands. 

Stan's eyes widened, and he stared at Mike, had tears not already been running down his face, they definitely would have been at that. 

"You weren't saying the chant?" Richie snapped, advancing forwards on Stan a few steps, who in turn took a few steps back. "You did this!" 

Stan shook his head quickly. "N-No I.. I'm-" But he couldn't find the words. He hadn't found them in the cavern either. He hadn't said the chant. 

"You did this!" Mike yelled, furious eyes now focused on him. 

Stan's eyes snapped back to his, desperate and pleading. 

"You did this!" Richie returned, and Stan let out a sob. 

"You did this!" 

"You did this!" 

The voices became distorted as they both yelled, eventually merging into one, familiar voice. 

_ "You did this, it's all your fault!" _

He had done this. He hadn't found the words.

-

Not all the dreams were the same, sometimes others lived, sometimes it was Ben or Bill who were tossed across the cavern, sometimes entirely different losers made it out, and sometimes, no one but him lived at all. But he always lived. 

Except in one, blessed variation of the dream, where he did die, where he died before he even made it to the cavern. Sometimes he hung himself, sometimes he'd down a bottle of his sleeping pills, it didn't really matter how he did it, those dreams would always end the same. He'd watch the fight as a distant observer as opposed to a participant. Everyone lived in those dreams. Everyone but him. 

And when Mike from Derry called him on that seemingly normal night, and the sudden memory of his nightmares returned, he'd known what he needed to do. 

* * *

"I looked into its deadlights, and I wanted to be there." He said finally, and Bill began to cry once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. I really hope this chapter comes across okay? I haven't written a scene like this. Ever. So it was very difficult.


	6. Chapter 6

It was approximately another half hour later when both Stan and Bill had both calmed enough to speak again, though both still had silent tears streaking down their faces. 

Bill was the first to break the silence. "S-Stan I… I know Richie I-is mad b-but… He doesn't mean it… N-none of this is your f-fault." 

Stan shrugged awkwardly against Bill, sighing. "I mean… I did this to myself. I don't really see how it's not my fault." He mumbled. 

"Stan… y-you don't really believe t-that? It was clearly t-the clown… He tricked y-you…" Bill said sadly, running a hand soothingly down the other man's back. 

"Maybe…" He replied with a sigh, though it was clear by his tone that he clearly did not think so. "Is Eddie… okay?" He asked immediately after, an attempt at drawing Bill away from the current topic.

Bill tensed briefly, and was silent for a few moments before finally replying. "The doctors d-don't know if he'll make i-it … his arm, it g-got… s-sliced off and he lost a lot o-of blood…" He explained quietly. 

Stan stared blankly at Bill's chest for a few minutes, long enough that Bill began fidgeting awkwardly at the lack of response. "Guess Richie’s response makes a lot more sense now…" He said finally, Bill nodding slowly in response. "If he doesn't make it…. I don't think I'd ever forgive myself." Stan continued, shutting his eyes tightly, the thought physically paining him. 

"N-none of us w-ould forgive ourselves…" Bill mumbled in agreement, gathering Stan a little tighter against him. 

They were silent after that, neither of them willing to break the somber silence, and eventually, Stan drifted to sleep. 

* * *

Morning found stan sitting on the couch in the lounge area of the townhouse once more, coffee in hand as he stared blearily out of the window he had opened, the world around him fading into the background as he listened to the soft sound of bird song that drifted through. He was suddenly startled out of his reverie by someone suddenly sitting beside him, and he glanced up, meeting Ben's smiling face. 

"Hey." The man said gently, still smiling. 

Stan found himself returning the smile, finding that Ben's presence alone brightened his mood slightly. "Hey." He responded back. 

"You sleep okay?" Ben asked hopefully, the concern for his friend evident on his face. 

Stan shrugged. "As well as I could, I guess." He said, taking a sip of his coffee. The response rather avoided the question, but it seemed to satisfy Ben enough regardless. 

"As well as you could is all I hope for." He responded, patting Stan lightly on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few seconds before he pulled back, settling comfortably against the couch. 

They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes, before Stan glanced back towards him, worry pressing at the forefront of his mind. "Where is Mike…?" He asked, slightly dreading the answer. 

Ben's eyes widened slightly as he looked quickly to Stan. "Oh Stan, I'm sorry, no one told you where he was? He's alright, he's just staying at the hospital with Eddie. Bill told you about what's going on… Right?" He asked, only continuing at Stan's nod of affirmation. "Mike he, well he's taking this whole thing really hard, blames himself for the whole thing. He sorta… lied to us about some really serious things, and it almost cost us, well, everything. He did it with the best intentions, but now he feels that... everything that happened was his fault. It wasn't, but I guess I can see how he could feel like that…" Ben trailed off, his eyes shining with emotion. 

"Oh… I-" Stan started, cutting himself off with a frown, not really sure what sort of response was appropriate in the situation. "I'm glad he's alright, at least…" He finished after a few beats. 

"Me too…" Ben agreed with a sad smile. "I'm glad you're alright as well…" He added on quietly. "And I know Richie reacted, well… harshly, but you know he is too, right? He's just very emotional right now." Ben said, seemingly struggling to find the correct words. 

Stan shrugged once more, glancing off at the window again. "I mean, I don't really think it was harsh, given the situation. It was definitely upsetting…" He said, tone surprisingly calm. 

Ben frowned in response. "Even if it was upsetting, he never should have reacted like that… We're not children anymore, he definitely could have handled it better." He said, still frowning, upset that he even considered it was appropriate for Richie to punch him in response to…not being dead. 

Stan didn't respond to this, sitting in silence for a few moments, taking a few large gulps of coffee while seemingly lost in thought. "Where is he now?" He asked finally, eyes flickering back over to Ben. 

"Hospital. He left pretty much immediately after you went upstairs last night. Speaking of that… I wanted to ask you if you wanted to head over there, Eddie got out of surgery very early this morning, they say he's stable now…" Ben said with a smile. 

Stan returned a smile in response. "Yeah… Yeah I'd like that." 

Ben nodded with a grin, seemingly thinking that Stan would have said no, perhaps because Richie would be there. "Great, I'll go get Bev and we can head out." He said, leaving quickly, taking the steps upstairs two at a time. 

Stan smiled after him, mood having shifted drastically. Ben was like that, it was truly difficult to be in his presence and stay in a sour mood, his entire being just seemed to radiate compassion. Stan found his thoughts wandering past this, and he sat fondly reminiscing about childhood memories with Ben that he did not have only a few days ago, happy to be able to recall them with at least a small amount of clarity. 

He was drawn from his thoughts at the sound of jingling keys, and he glanced up, Bev was standing in the hall, spinning her car keys around her finger while smiling at him, Ben coming stomping quickly down the stairs after her. 

"Ready to go?" She asked, and Stan found that he had missed her voice, though he had heard it only a few hours ago the previous night.

He downed the rest of his coffee, and stood, nodding as he did, and followed after the other two as they made their way outside to the car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I'm terrible at writing schedules... Also, added some art to chapter 4 if you wanted to go back and check that out.


End file.
